Flat
by Millennium Slinky
Summary: Throughout his journey, Piers has been enthralled by the mystery surrounding the edge of the world. Now, at the quest's end, he is free of all promises. Will Gaia Falls drive him to the brink...literally?


I thank those who reviewed **If Only (AKA Incoherent Ramblings of One Who Believes Herself to be Dead**, a weird ficlet if ever there was one.  So, with that in mind, I now present _another_ weird one, **Flat (AKA Strange Ponderings of a Blue-Haired Lemurian**, Picard/Piers's contemplation of the edge of the world...call him what you will, because it'll be in the first person and I'm fine with either name.

Inspiration: Was playing GS:TLA and sailing around the edge of the world because I thought the view was spectacular.  I don't think _any_ character could not be impressed by that, so here's the result...well, enough of my rambling.  *shivers*  The ending's kinda creepy...Remember, Picard/Piers POV (though admittedly a Picard/Piers with a demented brain)!

* * * * *

The edge of the world is beautiful.  So strange, so mysterious.  It calls to me, begging me to come closer...just a little closer, but I dare not lest I lose the ship.  I want to know what lies beyond that veil of white, but fear it.  Fear it.  I can only watch as the ocean thunders down, straight down, and wonder where it goes.

I could care less for myself if I die lost in the raging torrent that haunts me so, but I have an obligation to Felix and the others.  I have a ship.  They need a ship.  They've helped me – so must I help them in return.

When all this is over, I'll finally know what's there, at the bottom of the world.

I've lived on the sea all my life – I remember learning how to sail, how to chart, how to read maps.  It's all useless now, when all I want to know is what lies beyond the ocean that has been my heart and soul for hundreds of years.

Had I never left my home, I'd never have seen the edge, never realized that our world is truly flat.  I would never wonder where Gaia Falls leads to, never question the very force that keeps our world alive.  Sure, I _knew_ the facts – our world is flat.  End of story.  But I hadn't _seen_ it, with my own eyes.  One cannot describe with words the frothing white foam, the scintillating colors of countless rainbows, the roar that fills the air, the sight of all that water falling an eternity downwards.

Remembering the wave that carried me out of Lemuria, I laugh and realize how little I knew then – I knew a city and a patch of the Eastern Ocean, such a small thing compared to Weyward in its entirety, a wondrous place full of people who appreciate life just as much as we do.  They're not savages, cannibals, nor evildoers.  We think we can just shut ourselves up in our great city and immerse ourselves in the knowledge of generations, but we're so much worse off than the others.

It's impossible to fully appreciate the joy of living until you are forced to fight for your life, seen the many hazards and dangers and know you have conquered them all.  Gaia Falls was my first real trial.  It was stormy then, and I nearly crippled the ship on a reef hidden under the black waves.  I didn't know we were so close to the falls, so close to certain doom.

That was what I first considered it – doom.  If we went over, that would be the end of us.  No more lighting lighthouses.  No more alchemy.  No more anything.  We'd never be heard from again.

I remember Felix slamming into me as he skidded across the rain-slicked deck, yelling in my ear over the rumbling of thunder that we'd reached the edge of the world, and we'd better turn back or lose our lives.  I didn't question him then – he was the leader, and he knew best.  It was my ship, but he gave the orders.

The next morning we dropped anchor near Aqua Rock and watched the sun rise over the falls.  If that wasn't the most beautiful sight to be seen in all of Weyward, I don't know what else there is.  In the rosy glow of dawn, it looked so peaceful, the black waters of the night before bright blue and warm and so...deceptive.  The falls thundered on, ignoring the sunshine and the cloudless sky.  It didn't seem that such a simple thing was so dangerous, so untrustworthy.

Throughout all our travels, Gaia Falls has always been lurking at the back of my mind, compelling me to return.  I know that, inevitably, I'll be drawn to it.  It's here, everywhere, surrounding the rest of the world.  The edge of every ocean, the end to our flat world.  Always it tempts me, the answer that I know I'll never find.  I am bound by honor to fulfill _our_ quest.

Our quest.  Our.  When did it become _our_?  Theirs.  Not mine.  Never mine.  I serve King Hydros first and last.  They helped me regain the black orb – there was no other way to thank them than to join them, and to lend them use of my ship.  It was the honorable thing to do.  Such is the code of Lemuria.

When I get the ship back, I'll be free.  Free to go wherever I may please, to roam our vast, flat world.  Free to visit Gaia Falls again.  Free to fall.

Not for the last time, I wonder what could be down there.  Is Weyward just a flat piece of land and water floating in the middle of nothingness?  Is there a vast black pit underneath, filled with monsters?  Another ocean full of sharp rocks and debris swept over the edge too long ago to be remembered?  Perhaps others have gone before...but does _any_one know what lies beyond?  Does the Wise One know?  Maybe it's the realm of the gods; maybe it's the Underworld.  Maybe...maybe I'll never know.

Even now I can feel the tug of the falls.  I can see its perfect, untamed beauty in waves and thunder and lightning.  I can almost _feel_ the soft spray upon my upturned face, and I relish the coldness, the wetness, knowing that I will see it again in due time.

After all, there will be nothing left for me when our quest is completed.  I've been banished from my homeland.  The last few times we visited we managed to slip by the guards, but we can't go unnoticed forever.  In Lemuria I am naught but a traveler, a wanderer with nowhere left to go but an empty world, a flat world.  All ties severed since my uncle and King Hydros both passed away.

But then again, there is _always_ more.  Always there are the unanswered questions that lie just over the edge of the world.

Master sailor I may be, but if I was faced with the world's edge at this very moment, I know I couldn't turn back.  My fingers would be frozen to the helm, frozen by the will of my own betraying mind.  I know I shouldn't, but I must.  A useless waste of life, but...

It is accepted by the entire world that if you fall over the edge, you're dead.  But what if you're not?  How did the scholar who first thought of that _prove_ it?

They know nothing.

Sometimes I wish I could give up and let the wind and the water carry me away.  And that would be the end of it, because I would be gone and I would have the answer.

Someday.

* * * * *

I'm alone.  Very alone.  Here, on the vast sea, there is only a Lemurian, his ship, and three others who have never understood.  They were never grasped by the same curiosity, the same longing.  Here I stand at the helm, hands roving over the well-worn wood.  I can sense a storm brewing on the horizon, despite the ever-present blue skies and blue waters.

I don't want to warn the others.  They'll discover it in good time.  And by then it will be too late.  Leave the Lemurian alone, they say.  If he wants to stay on deck by himself, twirl the helm, and watch the skies, let him be.  Nothing out of the ordinary can happen.

How very wrong they are.

I know we're drawing closer, with every passing moment.  The wind blows from the east, bringing us slowly but surely beyond the western shore of Hesperia, closer and closer and closer and closer until even a breeze will bring us in sight of the edge.

I laugh softly to myself, glad that the others can't hear me, can't see me bent over the helm with the wind blowing my hair and clothes wildly about, can't feel the satisfaction of my mind at the fact that we're almost there.  We're almost there.  Almost to the edge.  Soon the storm will start, and there will be _nothing_, nothing they can do to save themselves.  Nothing they can do to save the ship they fought so hard for.  Nothing they can do to save _me_, their companion.  Their _insane_ companion.

We'll come to the edge.  There will be horror in their eyes, horror and shock and fear.  They'll see the falls rise up in front of them, see the vast expanse of empty space that lies beyond.  And then will come the tilting...and then the falling.  Because that's all that our world is.

Flat.


End file.
